


The Witch Is A Bitch

by slutpunk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Hair-pulling, M/M, Marking, Possessive Dean, Public Sex, Twink Castiel, Twinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 21:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1793257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutpunk/pseuds/slutpunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witches are bitches, but maybe Dean can forgive them for this one. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Witch Is A Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ, now available on AO3

“Fuck, Cas!  _Fuck!”_  
  
Cas might of replied, but Dean had no way of knowing since Cas’s mouth was currently busy – swallowing Dean’s cock down, right to the base. It was warm and wet and perfect inside there and Dean really could not see any reason to stop.  
  
Okay, so maybe the Impala in the dark parking lot of a local restaurant was not the  _best_  place to take part in such extra-curricular activities, but there was no way Dean had been able to argue when Cas shoved him back into his seat and started opening up the front of his Levis like he was fucking desperate for it. Which he was, apparently.  
  
See, it wasn’t Cas’s fault really. It was the witch. It was  _always_ the fucking witch. Which is why Dean hates witches. Well, at least he had hated this one before she worked her mojo and accidentally turned Cas into a—  
  
“Jesus _Christ_ on a popsicle stick!” Cas had this wonderful talent with his tongue, where he swirled it around that big vein on the underside of Dean’s cock and then dragged it up to the head and dipped into the hole there to gather all the precome out and every goddamn time Dean was seeing stars.  
  
“Dean, I do not think Jesus was ever on a popsicle stick. I think you mean a crucifix.” Cas lifted his head, licking his lips, that familiar frown between his eyebrows.  
  
Annnd, there it was. That thing that made Dean want to pull Cas down and fuck into his mouth until he went fucking blind from how hard he came.  
  
The eyes were the same pale, icy, fucking probing blue eyes staring at him, and Dean was pretty sure that no matter how old they got (if Cas ever aged) or how many times people would swap their bodies or fuck with them, those eyes would never change. But boy had the rest of him changed.  
  
When that witch cast her spell and the white light surrounded Cas’s body, Dean thought that his heart had been ripped right out of his chest. Of course, Dean and Sam had been busy distracting her (and by ‘distracting’ he meant ‘being tied up and serving as bait for Cas while the witch told them all about her evil plan’) and he hadn’t made it in time to stop the spell with his own body.  
  
And now Dean was kind of glad he hadn't because,  _damn._  
  
The Castiel that stared up at him now was not unlike the one that Dean had always known; same mannerisms, same eyes, same  _Cas_. But the body, oh body, the body.  
  
Apparently Jimmy Novak had been a fucking  _twink_  when he was young. The face that looked up at him now was smooth of any lines or wrinkles and his cheeks were painfully high. The little bags under his eyes were still there, sort of. He was all hard lines and chiseled jaw and so fucking youthful. And his goddamn Adam’s apple, oh man, his Adam’s apple. It stuck out so thick and prominent and every time Dean saw it he wanted to lick it, suck it, put his mark on it.  
  
So instead of killing him, the spell that hit Cas just regressed him by about twenty years, give or take. The face that stared up at him with wet, pouty, fuckable lips belonged to seventeen-year-old Cas, not the Cas that Dean had known.  
  
But Dean was quickly learning the benefits of this face.  
  
Those lips are around him again, this time teasing with just the barest of touches and licks, just like Dean taught him.  
  
“Come on, Cas, just—“  
  
Before he can finish the words though, the trunk of the Impala is opening and Dean can hear Sam talking to them through the open window.  
  
“Hey, did you guys see my wallet? The food's all ready and stuff, but I think I forgot my wallet in—Oh! Never mind, I got it!”  
  
When Sam comes around to the driver’s side window, Dean is beet red from his hairline all the way down under his shirt and Cas is sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed and something that looks suspiciously like a pout on his lips.  
  
“And I promise, this time, I didn’t forget the pie!” Sam smiles that goofy kid smiles of his and reaches through to pat Dean on the shoulder, not noticing how tightly his brother is gripping the steering wheel or the jacket tossed hastily over his lap.  
  
It’s only when Sam walks away that Dean allows himself to breathe.  
  
“Why did you stop me?” Cas asks and Dean’s wondering if maybe a teenagers personality was apart of this package too because that’s starting to sound suspiciously like a whine.  
  
“Because I didn’t want my  _brother_  to see my dick in Baby Castiel’s mouth.”  
  
“I am not a  _baby_ , Dean, I have just be regressed several years in age and—“  
  
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Spell, blah blah. Wear off eventually, blah blah. We went over this.”  
  
“I was going to say that I am simply extremely horny, but yes, all of that too.”  
  
It was possible that Dean turned even redder.  
  
\---  
  
At first, Dean really could not get used to this new, young Cas that was suddenly placed before him. Of course, it was the same angel on the inside, he stilled moved the same when he fought, that terrifying grace as he took out demons and ghouls and whatever the hell else they encountered. But it was hard enough as it was to deal with the fact that he and Cas were a—well, a  _thing_ now and this whole age-regressing bullshit was not helping.  
  
And it freaked Dean out, okay? For about one second and then he was starting to pick up a little bit of that desperation too.  
  
Over the next week, Cas kept on trying everything to get Dean’s cock inside of him. He didn’t seem to care if it was in his hands or in his mouth or that attempt to get it in his ass when they stopped for a bathroom break at a truck stop. Basically, he really was  _desperate_ for it and if Sam would stop cockblocking for  _one fucking second_ , maybe they could have solved this whole thing.  
  
During that whole week, Sam seemed to have a knack for interrupting right at the perfect moment. Right when Dean was starting to fuck his dick up into Cas’s hand. Right when he was inches away from making Cas come all over his stomach while the other guy – kid, whatever – ground up against him with those perfect plush lips letting out perfect little whimpers. Sam basically became a Jack-in-the-box, popping up right when you least expected it. Except it was way,  _way_  worse.  
  
And the worse part was that Cas was getting progressively more and more snippy as time went on. He kept making biting remarks, crossing his arms,  _pouting_  and all around acting like a child. Or a teenager, if you prefer. And, okay, maybe a part of Dean liked it. But after a while it was getting ridiculous.  
  
Which is probably why Dean wasn’t very surprised when, after they finally checked into a real hotel, Cas immediately stormed off to the bathroom in a fit because Dean wouldn’t let him help with their latest hunt.  
  
“We don’t know what that witch bitch did to you and until you’re all better, you are benched and that’s final!”  
  
God, he sounded like his father.  
  
Castiel had  _glared_  and Dean could just hear the teenage rage coming at him. But instead of arguing more, Cas had just stormed off and locked himself in.  
  
To say that Dean was grateful when Sam gracefully offered to go do some research would have been a fucking understatement. But that had been half an hour ago and Cas still hadn’t come out yet.  
  
So Dean did the only sane thing left to do.  
  
He picked the lock.  
  
Really, he probably shouldn’t have been so surprised at what he found.  
  
Cas was half-sitting, half-leaning on the counter with one foot flat on the closed lid of the toilet seat. His pants and underwear were in a messy pile at his feet because with them on, he probably wouldn’t have been able to spread his legs wide enough to fit his fingers up inside himself. Which was where they were. Right now. At this moment. Dean could see that at least two of them disappeared into that hole when Cas was forced to halt.  
  
His face was tinted red, his mouth holding up the old Led Zeppelin shirt Dean had given him since his other clothes didn’t quite fit (not that his other clothes ever had either) and those blue eyes were staring at him so wide they might have fallen out. The other hand, the one that wasn’t buried deep in his ass, was wrapped around his cock, purple and wet in his hand. And if Dean really wasn’t sure what was going on, the little open bottle of lube on the counter would have cleared things up for him  _real quick_.  
  
Cas’s body was pulled taut and seemed even smaller, longer now. Laid out before Dean was smooth skin, just as unmarred and perfect as older-Cas’s had been, but now it seemed even brighter, like all the years of hardship had just been washed away. Which, basically they had. All the hard lines of Cas had faded, though Dean could see that Jimmy had certainly taken care of himself at this age. The framed ‘treasure trail’ was just barely visible, so faint that Cas almost looked blonde instead of brunette.  
  
But Dean only needed to look into those hungry, needy eyes to see the same Cas.  
  
Picking himself (and his  _jaw_ ) up off the floor, Dean tried to play it cool.  
  
“Should I just leave you and your hand alone?” He snarked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms across his chest. That’s right, Dean. Act like you know he won’t say yes.  
  
“N-No, please—Dean, I—“  
  
“It’s okay.” Dean stepped forward and shut the door behind him, locking it securely. Just in case Sam decided to magically reappear. “I know, baby. I know what you want.”  
  
He’d been itching to properly and fully touch Cas for days now and as soon as he got his fingers on the smooth plane of Cas’s young body, Dean shuddered.  
  
“Turn around. Hands flat on the counter. And leave the shirt on.”  
  
He could feel the way Cas trembled underneath his fingers before he obeyed, silently turning around and steadying him just as Dean said.  
  
“Look at you. Got yourself all ready for me, did you?” Dean couldn’t help the way his hands traveled up and down Cas’s body, stroking over the slight curve of his waist and up to those nipples that were practically begging for attention.  
  
Resting his chin on the other’s shoulder, Dean could clearly see through the three-way mirror before them how pink Cas’s nipples were, just barely visible where Dean’s hands pushed up the Zeppelin tee. He could see how pink Cas’s face was too, almost the same color and deepening into red as he twisted and pulled at those hard peaks gently, knowing just how sensitive Cas always was there and exploiting it. He always loved the way Cas would whimper when his teeth scraped against the hard, little buds.  
  
But there would be time for him to do some exploring later. For now he just needed to claim what was his.  
  
“Are you watching, Cas?” Dean murmured, lips mouthing at the shell of the man’s – correction – boy’s ear as his hand slid down to that hole, wet and fluttering already as his finger circled around it once, twice. “Are you watching what I’m doing to you? Look.”  
  
The hand that had been occupied with teasing Cas’s nipple moved to grip the boy’s chin and turn his face up and to the right, just so he could see the way Dean’s finger disappeared as it pressed inside his hole, the way it sunk in so easily, as if Cas was pulling him inside.  
  
“Look how greedy you are for it.” The words were rolling out of him before he could stop them, before he even realized he’d spoken, but Cas didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to be reduced to a whimper ball of sensation, his face taken over with desperate need that Dean had seen before and had long ago claimed as his own. The whimpers were higher pitched than he was used to, but that didn’t make them any less beautiful.

“I want you to watch when I fuck this hole. I want you to watch my cock going inside you. Do you understand?”

Cas’s eyes, that safe, familiar blue, had gone wide at Dean’s words and he watched as the boy swallowed then nodded.

Pulling out his finger only to press in a second, Dean tsked, “Come on. I want to hear you say it.”  
  
“Y-Yes! Yes, sir!”

Grinning into Castiel’s shoulder and watching the color of Castiel’s supple, smooth skin redden even more, Dean decided that deserved a reward. His fingers scissored inside of Cas, stretching him open wide, wanting to prepare him to take Dean’s cock, but not wanting him to be too loose. Although he wasn’t entirely sure that was even possible; becoming seventeen again seemed to have some wonderful advantages.

All it took was one crook of his finger to find that hot button, that spot that made Castiel jerk forward in his arms, hips humping forward and Dean was sure that if he reached down he’d find that Cas’s cock would be leaking. It was good to know that even with the physical changes, everything else remained the same. He could still find that spot like it was home and Cas would still react the same way.

And Dean kept stroking at it, thrusting his fingers in and out, hitting that spot deliberately every time. His free hand couldn’t seem to stop roaming, running over the arch and dip of Cas’s back, tracing the knobs of his spine, over his bonier than ever hips, circling around his neck and feeling the sharp bob of his Adam’s Apple against the palm of his hand. His lips couldn’t stop touching either, licking, sucking, biting at every bit of skin he could reach until much of Castiel’s neck, shoulders and lower back were peppered with red bruises.

It was only when Dean had Castiel begging, had him rasping out, “ _Dean!_ ” with every intake of air that Dean let up and pulled his fingers out. Holding Cas’s shuddering body flush against his own, back to front, Dean ground his dick against the boy’s ass, letting him feel just how greedy Dean was too.

“Wanna be inside you so bad, baby. Wanna feel you come on my dick. Is that what you want, Cas? Want to come on my dick?”

Dean was barely done speaking before Cas was nodding stuttering out, “Yes! Y-Yes, please, Dean! Please, fuck me!”

 _“Fuck,_ ” Dean hissed, hands fumbling for his jeans, pushing aside the layers of cloth to get to his cock and groaning as it sprung free, as it pressed against the heated skin of Castiel’s ass, nestled between his cheeks just like it was meant to be there. He can’t help thrusting his hips forward a couple of times, just feeling the wet slick against his dick.

But there’s no way he’s putting this off any longer, not when he feels like his balls are about to burst and Cas looks even worse. _Perfect,_  but just as needy.

When he pushes inside, when he presses the head of his cock against Cas’s hole, all wet and gaping, it’s tight and warm, just like he knew it would be. Tighter than he can ever remember and he’s gritting his teeth as he pushes inside and keeps on going until he bottoms out and his hips are flush right up against Cas’s ass. But he doesn’t move. Not yet. Not when Cas is fluttering around him so perfectly, when he’s so fucking hot inside and so perfect, just like he knew it would be.

They breathe together, one, two, three. Then Dean’s pulling out, slow and careful, groaning at that perfect drag of skin on skin. He thrusts in a little faster, each time picking up speed, just as cautiously as he had done their first time. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Soon, he’s pounding in, hands gripping at Cas’s hips with an unrelenting grip, pulling Cas down to meet each of his thrusts and relishing in the slap-slap of skin on skin. It’s just as perfect as always, even with this younger, lithe body so pliant in his hold.

A glance in the mirror shows him that Cas isn’t quite doing as he’s told, that his head is down, his eyes screwed shut as Dean fucks into him, arms barely able to keep him upright.

“What did I say?” Dean grunts out, reaching a hand up to fist into Castiel’s hair and pull his head up with enough force to get his attention, turning him to look into the mirror. “Want you to watch how crazy you are for my dick. Want you to see it.”

He releases Castiel’s hair, moving both hands to the boy’s shoulders and hauling him down on to his cock, his hips needing only to give the slightest push to really bury himself inside that sweet, tight body. Dean can feel every shudder Cas gives, feels it as if it were his own and knows that it makes Cas  _his_ , to know that only he can bring this out of the angel. Only Dean gets to have Cas like  _this._

Dean can feel his balls getting heavier, tighter, and knows it’s not gonna be much longer. So he starts to angle his thrusts just so, just enough that almost every thrust is pounding right up against that spot inside Cas.

“Come on, baby. Want to watch you come all over my cock. Come on, I know you want it. Bet I don’t even have to touch your dick to make it happen.”

How Dean manages to form coherent sentences is a mystery that will never be solved, but it doesn’t matter because soon, Cas is doing exactly as he said and he can feel all of it. He can feel the way the boy’s insides clench up even tighter, so tight it feels like he can barely escape. He can feel the muscles flutter, feel Cas’s hips jerk forward and one glance in the mirror and Dean can see Cas’s cock twitching as it spurts out ropes of white come and his cries fill the air.

There’s the faint sound of banging on the bathroom wall, a neighbor, perhaps, but Dean cannot even begin to care as his eyes find Castiel’s, those perfect, safe baby blues and then he’s coming too, spurting inside of Cas until his vision whites out and  _Jesus_ , has he ever come this hard?

When the world starts to fade back to normal, Dean is pressed up tight against Cas and he can feel the wetness trailing down between their two bodies. He doesn’t even want to look and see what kind of mess Cas made all over the counter. But Dean knows he’ll have to eventually. It’s that or risk Sam the Cockblocking Wonder find it and that would just be an awkward conversation he did not want to have.

He pulls out with a wet slick and steps back to fumble for the toilet paper, pulling off enough to begin giving himself a brisk wipe down and blindly handing the roll to Cas. It’d suffice until they had enough time to shower. Perhaps even a round—

“Oh my God. You’re you!” Dean had looked up to find that same old Cas staring at him, emphasis on the old. Those familiar lines were etched into his skin, the crease between his eyebrows, the wrinkles, all of it. Cas was back to normal. The Led Zeppelin shirt looked tighter now, but Dean liked it even more now.

“Guess it didn’t ‘fade away,’ so much as ‘rub off,’ eh, Cas?” Dean knew that his mouth was curled up in a smirk. But Cas was still staring at him. “What? Did I get come on my jeans again?” Dean looked down, frowning.

“I’m afraid your observation is all too accurate, Dean.” Cas is tense and breathing heavy and Dean can see the trail of gooseflesh all along his skin, but somehow he still looked... grim. He seemed to brace himself before speaking, “The curse has indeed rubbed off. On you.” Castiel stepped to the side, allowing Dean to see himself in the mirror.

“What the… _Fuck._ ”


End file.
